Fall From Grace
by EpicDaydreamer
Summary: A night 10 years ago changed Draco's life, and now he's about to find it uprooted again. Royal responsibilities, assasination attempts, and conspiracies send him into the arms of mysterious and dangerous Hadrian. But who is Hadrian Really? And will Draco continue to love him when he finds out? Or will he prefer to kill him? Slash Drarry/ non-magical
1. Prologue: 10 years ago

Epic Daydreamer

Disclaimer: This story is mine but the characters are not. If it seems out of canon, that's because it is.

Prologue: 10 years ago…

December 24, 1989

The night was cold and bitter, despite the warm and happy holiday atmosphere of the London city. Streetlights glowed with imitation candles and storefronts cast warm lights through windows onto the streets. The first snow was expected that night, the ground already frozen hard and trees sparse of any life. Stars were beginning to wink out and the moon's light slowly fading as dark, oppressing clouds loomed in the night sky.

In a small cottage styled, two story house in the suburbs that bordered and spread on the outskirts of the London city and into the Highbury Fields hillside, a mother and son were enjoying a warm lit fire together, curled into each other on a darkened maroon couch. The mother was exceedingly beautiful with her long, silky black hair that draped lazily over the couch, pink lips with rosy cheeks warmed by the nearness of the fire, and dazzling ice blue eyes that despite their cool color, glittered with passionate heat. Her son, who looked to be 11 years old, sat in her lap, curled into her arms with a look of pure joy and adoration as they laughed. His hair was so blond it could almost be white, and his skin equally fair- a striking contrast to his mother with her dark hair and tan skin. His cheeks were rosy as well, but it looked more natural, as if his cheeks were always that color and his lips a delicate pink that was adorable, but not girly.

His eyes, though, were her eyes. The color of blue ice, yet warm.

Two observers watched this from a window lightly frosted from the contrast of warm interior and cold exterior. Their clothing was dark, but would soon be about of place in the midst of snow. Red hair could be seen tied at the nape of a toned man, his face covered by black cloth, revealing two brown, lethal eyes. His companion was of a much smaller frame- a child's frame-with raven hair cropped into a uniform style, and glittering, bright green eyes that were slanted in concentration and slight resignation.

"Are you ready for this Raven?" the code name slithered off the older man's tongue like a biting serpent, causing the young one to hide a flinch and then give a quick nod. This was his first assignment. He grabbed the black mask that hung around his neck and lifted it until it covered his face except his eyes. Pulling a black cap from his pocket, he tucked the black strands of hair into it.

The older man looked on him with satisfaction.

"Alright Raven," he handed him the 9mm pistol with the silencer already attached, "I'm going back to the car. When you're finished, meet me there." Another nod signaled he understood. He watched the red head trail back, and turned back to the window.

How could he do this? They looked so happy. He himself had never had a family, but he imagined it look something like this.

He took a deep breath and steeled himself. He was trained for this. He couldn't back out now. Sneaking behind a trash can and onto the back porch he pulled a thin needle like rod from his pocket and inserted it into the lock. Jiggling a little bit, a click was heard and he smirked behind his mask in satisfaction.

His movements were silent as stalked past the kitchen and stood in the shadows of the living room archway. He could see, from his position, both the mother's and the son's head.

He lifted the gun and aimed for the son.

As his finger slowly pulled back on the trigger, the mother seemed to have heard him as her head whipped around and those icy eyes stared at him in a mix of emotions. Confusion, curiosity, anger, and then fear.

It all was less than a second, as she raised her body slightly in front of the boy who didn't have time to be surprised and the trigger was completely pulled back.

A shout.

A thump as a body rolled to the floor.

A cry of surprise.

Gurgling as a mother looked at her son as she died.

And then wailing.

A wailing he had never before heard and one he never wanted to hear again. It was sound full of helplessness, fear, and sorrow. Ice blue eyes of his target turned to him, and he wondered how such warm eyes could become so cold so fast.

Tears dripped down a heart shape face as those eyes stared at him: first in complete confusion and then with a cold rage.

The boy was about his height as he stood up. His hands clenched into fist. Raven, for the first time, didn't know what to do. He hadn't felt like that since he was…well, since a very long time ago.

"Why!"

He could only stare.

"WHY!" The voice was screaming now and the tone held rough edge at the end of desperation.

Raven did the only thing he could do.

He ran.

Not to the car though. No he ran as far as he could in the opposite direction. Yes he was trained for this…and he couldn't imagine himself doing anything else. But he wasn't prepared for the guilt and sorrow in his gut, nor for the realization that there was someone in the world now that truly hated him, and for once, he was worthy of that hate.

So he ran.

His target's name was Draco. He would have to atone for what he had done someday. He cried as he ran, realizing that there was probably not enough forgiveness in the world to make up for what he had just done.

"I'm sorry…Draco…"

Two days later found a young dark head boy reading a paper on a park bench.

BREAKING NEWS

KING'S AFFAIR UNCOVERED

Two nights ago detectives discovered that King Lucius Malfoy of England had an affair twelve years ago with a young dancer by the name of Andromeda Black. Her death was called in by her eleven year old son, Draco Lucius Black-now legally Draco Malfoy- who has been blood tested and proven to be the second son of our King Lucius Malfoy. According to sources, a burglar attempted to invade there home on Christmas Eve, but found resistance in Ms. Black who protected her son and was killed for it. What does this mean for the future of England? Draco is still considered the second son and therefore will be second heir should anything happen to Prince Caduceus Malfoy. For more information, turn to page 12.

The young both took a deep breath and sighed.


	2. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own anything from J.K. Rowling. I am merely using her characters to my own plot line, all credit goes to her own genius.

Rating: This story is Rated M for a reason. Sexual situations, lemons, limes, attempted assault, etc. You have been warned an I advise you turn around if any of this will bother you.

Pairing: Slash Drarry: Draco and Harry. Slight one sided Blaise and One sided Tom Riddle.

Fall From Grace

Chapter One

Yesterday was his birthday.

It was also the very first day of his life that he had ever wished that he had never been born. Ok…he wouldn't go that far. But he would admit, in the early midnight hours of the day after his twenty-first birthday, that he had truly been an arrogant and naive individual.

Draco Malfoy was arrogant…and naïve.

Arrogant because the second heir to the throne of England and the illegitimate son of the King could do anything he wanted, even commit murder, and get away with it. He would never actually murder someone, but he did party and have brilliant sex with many women to the point that there were enough notches on his bed post that he was seriously considering getting a new bed.

The night had started out as any other night. The early spring air was warm, yet cool, as he pulled up his light, black leather jacket; his v neck, navy blue tee shirt was too thin to wear without it. Dark jeans draped languidly off his narrow hips, with just the right amount of fitting to show his lean legs. He had jelled his light blonde hair back for a sleek, yet roguishly elegant look. All of this was complimented by a pretty red head hanging off his arm, of who was dressed in a dark blue satin dress that reached her thighs, as they entered _Black Lace: _a prestigious and well known club for those of high standing who want to let loose without the fear of reporters and overly excitable fans.

The atmosphere on the inside sent his hips to immediately swaying and he lead his female for the night, if he remembered correctly her name was Ginny, to the floor. The rhythm of the music held his mind and body captive as he ground into the slightly curved backside of her dress. He'd remember to get a girl with a more…supple behind next time. A hand gripped his arm. Swinging around, he greeted his friend, or at least the closest friend he'd ever known, Blaise.

"Happy Birthday Old Man." Draco Scowled.

"I'll have you know that there is nothing about me that is old." An arched eyebrow appeared on the handsome, dark skinned face.

"I don't know about that. Perhaps you should let me try you out." A laugh burst forth from his throat as he eyed his friend.

He slipped an arm around his shoulders as he led Blaise to the bar, leaving Ginny to dance by herself. "Blaise, even if I swung that way, you wouldn't be my type. You're just too…too…"

"Too what?" His voice was gruff with annoyance, but his eyes held curiosity and amusement.

"Easy." Blaise barked with laughter as Draco ordered two rounds of alcohol. The bartender quickly slid it down into their out stretched hands. The music changed in the backgrounds to a more sedate rhythm, couples drifted to the floor, and Draco eyed the brunette that Ginny had found herself glued too. Well, whatever. He really didn't feel anything for her anyway.

"Perhaps you're right. But hey, the offer is there when you want to try it."

"Yeah yeah, I hear yah."

"So…how does it feel to be twenty-one…or at least, to be officially legal to do the things you already do?" A bemused expression crossed Draco's face, his lips curving slightly downward in what was obviously displeasure.

"I would say it was alright, if it wasn't for the conversation me and my _father_ had…" The emphasis on _father_ was said so sarcastically and bitter, it caused Blaise to both cringe and lean in with curiosity.

"Eh…," he studied his friend for a moment, "You want to talk about it?"

"…," Draco sighed, his hand running through his hair and messing the perfectly placed strands. This was clear warning that the conversation must have been bad; If Draco was anything, it was a mix of OCD and Narcissism.

"You've heard about the Prince, my _brother_ (this also said with a healthy dose of bitterness and sarcasm) Caduceus has been sick recently?"

Blaise thought for a moment and remembered reading about it in a gossip magazine. It was something that was reported by paparazzi, but the rumors hadn't been proven yet.

"I've heard the rumor about it, yes."

"Well it's not just a rumor, and it's also a lot more serious than we first thought. It's terminal. The doctors are not sure how long he has to live, but they know he won't last longer than a year and a half…if that long."

"Wow. I'm sorry to hear that, dude."

"Yeah, well. That's not the worst part to me. You know that there is no love lost between my brother and I. Ever since childhood, he has picked up on the disdain my father has for me and uses that as leverage over me. When he does die…I doubt I'll grieve."

Blaise opened his mouth to speak, but Draco cut him off as he continued.

"No, what gets me is now I'm the heir to the throne. Now I'm the one who has a father wanting to spend time with his son and raise him in the way of following him in his footsteps. Now that I am the official future _**King**_ I've suddenly ganged an important place at my father's side. The man has never once spent more than a couple hours in my presence, all of which he didn't look at me with anything more than a sneer on his face—as if I'm the one blemish in his beautiful world. I didn't ask him to have sex outside of marriage or to knock my mother up, but he did. My whole life, at least since…_that day_, I've been the target for his ire, and now that I'm coming into the age of finally leaving his control, I find myself so trapped that I may never be free." The last words, stumbled out of Draco's mouth with whispered ferocity, his eyes so intense and focused on the back wall of the bar, Blaise wouldn't be surprised if some of the liquor bottles exploded.

A dark skinned hand tightened on a lightly muscled shoulder.

"Is there no one else who is in line to be the heir of the throne?"

Draco scoffed.

"With all the inbreeding these royal aristocrats do, you don't think there is another heir? Half of England could trace their heritage to the throne. No, the next heir is an Italian Lord that I have never met, and the heir after him is a duchess of both English and French heritage. I brought that up to my father, and he all but lost his head. I've never seen his face change to so many colors before. All he said was, '_There will be no backwater, English imitating traitors or bastards sitting on the throne of England as long as I am King and there is an English heir._'"

An unusual expression crossed Blaise's face before it was swiped clean. Draco wondered if he had hallucinated, even though he hadn't really been drinking.

"Your father sounds like an ass."

"Oh trust, he is."

"And you're the future king of England?"

"So he says…"

A quiet descended before Blaise called for another round of vodka and a couple shots of tequila. Draco looked out over the dance floor before a glass was shoved into his hand.

"Well despite your future being tied to the one man who has a 10 inch stick up his arse, happy birthday, Draco." Blaise bumped his glass with Draco's in a toast. Draco smiled in response, always grateful for his friend's upbeat personality. He put the glass against his lips, and threw it back in one gulp, ignoring the unusual flavor as part of his imagination. The night flew in a blur of colors and sounds after that.

The next coherent thought Draco had was that he was extremely thirsty…

The next was that he was extremely hot…

And the next was that he couldn't move.

He opened grey eyes and found himself looking up at the weirdest colored ceiling he had ever seen. Really…who paints their ceiling purple? Looking around he noticed that the walls were black and on the opposite wall to him-self was what looked to be a huge mirror. He then realized that he was tied to a bed, both hands and feet, with black leather straps in such intricate knots, he couldn't begin to figure out how to untie them. He was also, completely naked except for his black satin boxers and black dress socks.

Looking at the mirror, he realized it wasn't a mirror at all…but probably some one way window. He had only seen one once and it had been in the interrogation room of the palace. Of course, he had been on the other side when he saw it.

This is where he was beginning to realize he had been naïve. Thinking through the night, he couldn't figure out how someone had slipped him a ruffy…but somewhere, somehow, someone had. And now…he didn't really want to think about what was about to happen.

A door he hadn't noticed before opened and a squat man with a bulbous body and ski mask walked in. Fear, something Draco had never experienced to the degree he felt right now, crawled up his spine and caused his eyes to widened at the naked state of the man before him. His eyes immediately flew to the wall furthest from the man, his brain burning with the image of the man's obvious arousal at his fear. He closed his eyes and prayed that the tears wouldn't come.

A hand began to trail from his ankle to his inner thigh over his hip, dipping in his belly button and over his abs, to circle around his taught nipple and eventually leading up his neck to cup his face. Draco shuttered, and bit his lip from screaming. Not from pleasure, but from humiliation and the overwhelming feeling of being degraded and violated. The pervert took it differently.

"Don't worry, my prince, I'll make sure you feel real good."

His whole body froze at the information.

So they knew who he was. What the hell did that mean? Was this a plot to get him out of the way? But…why? As far as the public and anyone else knew, he was still only the second heir to the kingdom. Only his father, the doctor, and him-self knew the full extent of information. Not even his brother knew exactly how much time he had left.

His whole thought process stopped, when an unwelcomed hand slid beneath his boxers and began to stroke his…most precious asset. This was too much.

"GET THE HELL OFF ME YOU SICK PERVERT! DON'T TOUCH ME! GET OFF NOW!" Draco squirmed and wiggled as best he could to get as far from the disgusting pervert, but only managing to excite the little bugger more as he hopped onto the bed and proceeded to straddle him, his hardened erection pointing in the direction of Draco's face.

Brown eyes leered into grey ones, and Draco's eyes widened in horror as the filth before him leaned in closer to kiss him. His ranked breath ghosted over his face, causing him to gag.

Before the man could take hold of his lips, the door flew open and a series of _bangs_ that sounded like the mix of a whip cracking and the roaring of thunder rang through the air. Red flew before his eyes and a heavy mass of meat fell on top of him.

Eyes wide, he looked down and realized that the man was dead; the blood from his head and chest pooling onto his skin and dripping into the sheets. Turning his head, Draco looked over towards the door and saw a man dressed all in black, even his face was wrapped in cloth like that of a Ninja, leaving startling green eyes-familiar but he couldn't place them- open to the world.

The gun was still held in the air, smoke billowing from the end, as grey met green for what felt like eternity. Slowly the arm holding said gun drifted to the stranger's side, as he spun around to walk away.

A new kind of fear blossomed in Draco's chest.

"Please…," His tongue snuck out to wet parched lips, "Please don't leave me here." He hated how pathetic his voice sounded, but at the moment he couldn't care less. If the stranger didn't help him, how was he going to get loose from the bed?

The man in black paused, his whole body frozen with his foot lifted to take the next step. A soft sigh escaped his mouth, before turning to Draco. He whipped out a severe looking knife, one so sharp it could cut you by looking at it. Draco could feel fear nipping at his chest again, but he was relieved to see the stranger cutting through the bonds. Once free, the man helped him push the dead pervert off his body, and watched its pathetic slump to the ground on the opposite side of the bed.

Draco was surprised with him-self, at the satisfied and sadistic glee that coursed through him at the sight. Not to mention the fact that a man was killed in front of his face and he felt alright with it…for now. He knocked it off as delayed shock, which he was sure to feel when his body and brain felt that he was safe.

The stranger held a leather, gloved hand out for him, the other hand lifting in the universal sign of "BE QUIET!" He nodded in observation of what the stranger wanted and walked behind him as he led the way.

Hallways…and more hallways. All of which were filled with men, slumped against tables, walls, and some lying completely flat in pools of their own blood. A shiver raced up Draco's spine, wandering to himself about just what kind of man was he following that could leave this much carnage in his wake. Then again,…he'd take this quiet stranger any day to the loathsome people who were in this building. He was under no delusions that he was there out of coincidence. Nothing was coincidence when one was part of the Royal family. That was a hard lesson he had learned long ago, which was why he felt so bitterly about being naïve enough to fall into such a situation.

Draco watched as the stranger grabbed a silver suitcase from amidst an array of well dressed men, they too were dead. Suitcase in hand he led the way to the entrance. It was on nearing the entrance that the intense silence was broken by screaming and the running of feet. A strong hand grabbed his wrist, before jerking him into a run.

They ran out the doors of what Draco now realized was an old warehouse (how cliché was that), and flew toward a dark area around a crop of trees. Beneath the shadows, sat a shiny, black 458 Italia. Without words, Draco flew to the passenger seat and jumped in, just as the stranger pulled off the breaks and hit the gas. He didn't turn the lights on until they were a couple miles away, and soon they were on the highway, flying past traffic.

Draco didn't know when he fell asleep, but the combination of the roaring of the engine, the peaceful quiet of the car, and the built up anxiety of the night crashed on him at once. What felt like minutes, but could very well have been hours, came to a close as his car door opened and a gentle hand roused him awake.

"Come."

That simple word, which could be taken out of context if he allowed his mind to go there, caused a ripple to flow from his lips, to his shoulders, and down into the pits of his stomach. He paused for a moment in surprise, but again brushed the feeling off as something he didn't understand, and didn't currently have the time to analyze in any depth.

Stepping out of the car, Draco looked up and was stunned. A mansion, beautiful in its elegance, with rose bushes climbing up the sides of bay windows to curve around banisters of balconies. Stone, of which looked almost like alabaster, lined the front entryway and faded into black and grey bricks. A fountain, a wolf howling at the moon, sat in the middle of the entryway, of which could only be reached by walking up a half dozen white bricked stairs. Flowers of varying colors and smells scented the air, the scene only being completed by the small fairy lights that could be seen dangling from limbs here and there.

The stranger began walking up said steps, and Draco hurried to keep up. The night air was beginning to make itself known…considering he was still clad in boxers and some socks. The door opened and they stepped in.

A man, about the size of a tree, stood on the other side of the door. His broad shoulders and stern face which encased suspicious brown eyes, cut an intimidating figure as Draco eyed him in curiosity.

"Hagrid, is everything ready?" Piercing eyes turned to the male beside him, as the stranger began unwrapping his face.

"Yes, Hadrian. Everything you requested is prepared." Draco had to suppress a guilty pleasure at watching the last of the black cloth falling away, to reveal the most stunning face he had ever seen on a male…and perhaps female too. His eyes were still that striking green, but were more enhanced with the aristocratic beauty of his face. His cheek bones sat a bit high, and his lips were not quite full, but curved enough to know he would be an excellent kiss. On his head, of which Draco hadn't noticed before since it was wrapped up as well, sat a shiny wild mass of midnight black hair, some strands framing his face and a fistful pulled into a low pony tail at his nape. A slender, tanned neck with just the right amount of muscle could be scene peeking from the high collared black jacket.

The stranger…now Hadrian turned to him, and the blonde could feel his cheeks starting to redden at the prospect of being caught starring. He was beginning to feel slightly agitated with himself, wondering why he was suddenly acting like a blushing virgin bride before her wedding night.

Hadrian nodded his head to Hagrid, who made some sort of gruff noise before closing the door and disappearing down the hall.

"Come." There was that word again. Thoughts began to stir at that one word, but Draco squashed them by asking a question.

"So you live here?"

"…yes…" Ah…a man of few words. Although, as Draco looked closer, said man didn't look too much older than he was. He'd ask, but he had a feeling that was information Hadrian wouldn't give out.

"Where are you taking me?"

"Guest room." The blonde paused at that. Just now realizing that he was in a stranger's home; not just any stranger, either, but a stranger who could massacre dozens in relative ease if he wanted to.

Draco paused when the stranger spoke.

"What is your name?" Despite it being the longest amount of words that fell from Hadrian's lips that he had ever heard, Draco seriously thought about the question. If he was asking, did that mean he didn't know? It could be possible; it wasn't like he was in the tabloids like the rest of his family. But also, suspicious since the man seemed to be someone who was in the know. Draco may not be in the papers, but he was not unknown. Especially with what happened 10 years ago…

Draco's face darkened.

Yeah, all of England knew who he was after that.

"My name's Jacob." Hadrian paused, and looked over his shoulder, a smirk playing across his lips.

"You don't trust me." It wasn't a question, but a statement of fact. "That was very wise of you. I also applaud you for the alias of Jacob," here he began walking again, "since it means liar."

Draco tried to not let his face show his surprise or his apprehension.

Hadrian came to a set of double doors and pushed them open with a small click of the snake like handle. The room was beautiful. The walls were painted in a forest green tone and the furniture were all of a shiny, dark red wood. A canopy bed sat in the middle with satin green sheets, its silver see-through hangings encasing it giving a combination of gothic romance. Pillows of varying shades of green and silver sat against a redwood headboard and a soft breeze flew through silver curtains that opened out to a balcony.

"Hagrid has ran you a bath and the clothes on the bed are for you. There is a pair of pajamas and a set for tomorrow." Grey eyes looked at the edge of the bed, and true enough, a pile of clothing sat there.

"You have a bathroom that is in there," Here Hadrian pointed to a door to the right side of the room. A soft cloud of steam could be seen billowing out.

Hadrian cleared his throat to get Draco's attention. Verdant eyes seemed to look into his soul, trying to discover his secrets and unravel his mysteries. Draco had never felt so exposed, but out of habit, he made sure he didn't look away. They stared at each other for what felt like eternity with an intensity not many can muster.

Something must have satisfied Hadrian for he nodded his head slightly and spoke.

"In the morning I'll take you wherever you want to go in order for you to get home," bitterness began to pool in the pit of Draco's stomach at what he had to return to, "or…, you can stay here and work for me as my butler. This will be your room and I will make sure you are well taken care of."

An eyebrow rose at that. Who takes a stranger in and offers them a job? Better yet, who accepts a job working inside the home of said stranger? It was all a bit suspicious, and Draco was beginning to wonder if he was being led into a trap. Although, he couldn't for the life of him figure out what it was.

"Why?"

"Why what?" Hadrian tilted his head, his green eyes glowing with humor and mid length black strands falling across his shoulder. Draco clenched his hands into fists with slight frustration.

"Why are you being so kind to me? What do you want? And why the hell are you offering me a job as your _butler_." Their eyes met, and Draco could have sworn he saw something flash behind those green windows. But soon it was gone, and Draco couldn't be sure it had been there at all.

"I don't want anything from you. You just don't seem like you want go home." The blonde could feel his shoulders unconsciously straighten his spine become rigid. He turned his head slightly with his nose in the air, and allowed his arms to cross his chest…not at all knowing he looked like an obstinate child getting ready to throw a tantrum.

"And what, pray tell, gave you that idea?" Draco wasn't ready for the devilish smirk that flitted across Hadrian's pink lips, his eyes curling with mischievousness. The sight itself sent an electric shock down the blonde's spine, curling through his toes, and back up through his waiting member, which twitched to life with sudden arousal. He had never before been so happy that he liked his boxers loose…even if they still clung to his form sensually.

"Well, _sweet heart,_" the sarcastic terminology didn't help his blossoming arousal; "If you wanted to go home you would have said something already."

Draco tilted his head in surprise, ignoring his body's reaction, and smirked. Hadrian was right after all, there was no use denying it. And as he thought about it, he already knew his response. He may be suspicious…but he was also curious. There was something about Hadrian that drew him. He couldn't help the blossoming desire to know all of this man's secrets, like the greatest of life's mysteries being solved. His only prayer was that when his curiosity was sated, he didn't find himself six feet under.


End file.
